


Paper Once Lost

by MunTiller



Category: Paper Mario: The Origami King, Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Gen, Mario is basically Olly and Olivia's dad now, Mario is mute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Violence, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Work In Progress, and so does Olivia, mario has PTSD, mostly canon-compliant, she thinks she hides it well but Olly isn't blind, some chapters are hurt no comfort, tho if you prefer to see them in their original forms that's fine too, written in Gijinka form? I always end up imagining them as humans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MunTiller/pseuds/MunTiller
Summary: Six months ago, Mario fought against the infamous Origami King, Olly. Six months ago a wish was made, and six months ago she disappeared. Forever.Tonight wasn't a bad night, but it wasn't good either, he decided. Soon, Mario would find out that whilst he was dealing with his endless nightmares, a certain Toad was having their own adventures, and of those a miracle would occur.Ah, it seems he wasn't the only one having nightmares anymore.[DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, MY APOLOGIES]
Relationships: Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Mario & Olivia (PMOK), Mario & Olly (PMOK)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda like a drabble collection? The first few chapter are in order because we all need context to how this came to be, but after that I'm just gonna go to town and write some fluff/angst pieces. Hope you enjoy it.

The origami Festival had been brought to its end around six months ago, and life around the entirety of the kingdom went back to normal, or perhaps as normal as it could possibly get so soon. Toads were back to their homes, people were unfolded after the stapler was defeated, and the locations destroyed were being rebuilt step by step. It was over; life was moving forward again, albeit in very slow and small steps.

The war against the origami soldiers had not been easy, many suffered from it, and the existence of the Legion of Stationery never made it any better; now that they were gone, all of them, it was not, in fact, easy to forget what had happened. They had left too much behind, anyway.

And Mario knew that all too well.

Back to his little cabin in the woods, the scars under his clothes, engraved on his skin, would never fade. Not the burnt patches from the Pencils, or whip markings from the Rubber Band; that one small chunk of his face that was still there, but sometimes ached in ghost pain from that fight against the Hole Puncher; or the sticky feeling of the Tape’s spell under his feet, as if it had gone through his boots as he tried to stomp on them.

Not the image of being cut in half by the Scissors, either, or being stabbed by metal staplers over and over again, too. The fear of being folded against his will.

Or being burnt, crushed, drowned or frozen on that final fight. Or poisoned by literal hate in a gasified state.

…

He was a mess. He felt like a mess.

Looking up at the night sky – free from his brother’s near endless worry as he was now sleeping inside –, Mario knew very well it was late, too late; but who cared, anyway? The war was over, and not even Bowser would rise up again so soon, not when his army had been damaged beyond belief, changed to something they wouldn’t recover from so soon.

The war was over, the battle was over. So why didn’t it feel like it?

The sky looked so beautiful, he realized as he looked up again, and the wooden deck he was sitting on all too comfortable. In a way, Mario knew he wouldn’t sleep today, or tomorrow, or the day after; much to Luigi’s dismay.

It had been like this for some time now, although how long he couldn’t tell. No more than five months, for sure, but less than that was a mystery Mario had no energy to uncover. He felt weak. On the knees, when he patted his pockets and they turned out empty; on the arms, when he would grab things with hands that were once folded; and on the head and mind, when he walked through the woods and no voices came to bring him company.

Something was… missing. And Mario found himself guilty for using “thing” instead of “one”. _Someone_ was missing.

She wasn’t here, and it made a difference, a big difference. He knew it shouldn’t.

It felt confusing at first, during the first few weeks. He hadn’t even known her for long, yet he somehow missed her presence. One month, he recalled, it took them an entire month to travel around the world destroying each streamer; and without much rest between battles and constant travelling by foot, it was no wonder he felt drained once it was all over.

One month; thirty days. Seven hundred and thirty thousand hours – and that one he knew because _she_ had told him, during one of their most rare nights of rest before dozing off for the briefest of moments. He had grown so used to her talkative nature and bubbly personality, that one night when he woke up, he patted his pocket and panicked when he found it empty of her presence.

He felt like he needed to hear her voice again, _just this once_ , and after it took him an hour to calm down and to internalize his sobs once again, he wasn’t feeling like sleeping anymore. It happened again many nights over time, and _of course it did_ , and today was no different.

He didn’t feel like sleeping, and so he gazed into the stars and wondered. He wondered if they had both found their happiness among such beautiful sight; _somewhere_. Perhaps they did, her and her brother; it was a kind little mystery he liked to believe in, another something he couldn’t bring himself to look into any further.

A little lie he had told himself once, which grew and grew. It seemed so big now, how could he ever put it aside? He doubted it could fit into a chest, even. A small smile tugged the side of his lips, but it faded soon too.

Soon, he noticed a figure looming in the middle of the trees, and for some reason he couldn’t bring himself into a fighting stance. It looked familiar in a way, but his sleep deprived mind betrayed him more than anyone had ever done. He had been sitting at the same spot for two hours now, and soon his mind settled in a good response: whoever it was, if they wanted to fight then they would have to come closer; he was in no mood to leave his little spot.

Something close to relief came through him as his eyes adjusted, and a flickering lamp revealed the Toad holding it – _and it’s a normal Toad, Mario, of paper. No folded soldier, see? No origami._ He told himself before his breathing could quicken. It did little to help, but helped nonetheless.

“Mario?” They called, albeit with a lower tone than normal. It was late, after all. He lifted his head up and straightened his back, hoping his emotionless facade would be enough to hide his uneasiness. The Toad barely paid it mind as they approached. They looked very tired, as much as he was.

“I would have normally waited until sunrise, but I was told it was important.” They sat by his side ever so casually, but he didn’t mind. Sometimes, being something different from a celebrity felt good. “And I have heard you haven’t been feeling well.”

He nodded weakly, news always get around fast, but he doubted many people could blame him; and if they did, he didn’t care, they weren’t the ones fighting against giant office and art supplies, now were they? But perhaps it was selfish of him to think like this.

He looked at them, and they smiled weakly as they pulled a small letter from their bag. By the looks of it, it seemed to be written in colored paper, decorated with small shapes on the sides. He stared for a moment, and his eyes were caught by a small, golden streamer wrapping around the envelope like the ones he had seen around Peach’s castle, before it had been folded. His heart quickened with each beat, but he managed to look away before things got too bad. He was lucky the Toad seemed to understand it well enough.

They sighed, perhaps just as shaken about the whole ordeal as he was, before they spoke up again.

“I will unwrap this for you; I know it hasn’t been very easy.” He turned to look at them through the sides of his eyes, and he watched as they pulled out the little streamer with little to no effort; _If only the big ones had been this easy, huh?_ “It’s from the Origami Craftsman, he told me he had something for you, but no details; my apologies.”

Mario shivered, and as the Toad gave the unwrapped envelope to him, leaving the golden streamer by his side on the deck, he could feel the weight of it on his hands, shifting ever so slightly. There was something heavier than paper here, too.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, weightless compared to what he was about to read, and his eyes lifted up. A sympathetic look carried through Toad’s eyes, and Mario could feel his shoulders leaving some of their tension behind. They made it look so easy, to be hopeful.

“Thank you for everything, sir. Have a good night.”

And off they went, back to their house to enjoy a night of sleep he hadn’t for some time now.

He watched carefully as the dimming light of their lamp disappeared among the shadows, engulfed by the tall tress all around the cabin. It took some time for his eyes to turn down again, and soon enough the weight of the unopened envelope on his hands became too much to bear this late. He took a deep breath, perhaps afraid of what he was about to read, or simply tired out of his mind, before his hand tore through the upper part of the envelope.

Into his hand, he felt a small weird-looking pen as it slid through his palm, right before he could pull out the colorful letter. It was painted with black ink, although on the sides he could clearly see small vials of different colors; from blue to orange, red to green. 

Putting the letter aside, he picked it up with both hands and started analyzing it, turning it around on his palm. There wasn't much more to see aside from his name which was engraved on the side; what was this supposed to be? Suddenly, he must have pressed something accidentally, as he noticed something lit up.

A line, small as ever, was painted the air and as he was startled by it, he jumped back slightly. It followed the tip of the pen. Soon, with his curiosity peaked, he pressed the same place he had before and it did it again, but this time he was prepared enough to draw something. 

The image of his brother looked almost nothing like him, if Mario was honest with himself. But in the end, he didn’t care much; he could try again, and it would look better later with practice. 

Why was this… sent to him? He had never heard of pens that could write on air; written words that would disappear like mist mere minutes later. Why did he need it? Was there something going on he wasn't aware?

…Maybe he should take a look at the letter now. 

Carefully placing the pen on his pocket, he picked up the envelope again, this time pulling a colorful piece of paper from the inside; a mixture between purple and blue. In big, white letters, he recognized the handwriting of the Origami Craftsman, although he could tell it was a bit shaky; he could only hope it wasn't for a bad reason.

Passing a hand through his eyes, just so he could wipe away his tiredness, Mario's attention was finally caught by the letter.

_"Dear Mario,_

_For the past few months I have been going through my own little adventures, and I have discovered a lot in the meantime. I have been looking for two things that disappeared the day of your final fight against him, and I am proud to say I have found both._

_It is a shame they were not as intact as I had hoped, but I have done my best to bring them back to their old forms. Paper does not last against harsh environments, even more when it is far from sentient. I’ve worked hard for this, and I wish for you to partake in this new little adventure; you wouldn’t mind, would you?_

_Mario, she wants to see you again, badly. And so does he, but he won't admit to it, not even in a million years. She hasn’t stopped talking about you, and it’s fair since you were the one to give her so many opportunities so far. It took me a long time to do this, and after spending some sleepless nights folding again, I did._

_Please come to my house in The Great Sea, I will be waiting for you, but don't feel obligated to it if you don't want to. I am deeply sorry for how long this took me, and I hope you can forgive me for it._

_…Best regards, The Origami Craftsman."_

And for the next few minutes, he scrambled to wake his brother up.


	2. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guess what? This is a full story now, no more oneshots in the middle (might need to make a separate story for these, eh?), so enjoy this train-wreck while it lasts because things are not gonna be all happy from now on :) 
> 
> Also, chapters might pick up on length from now on because people will absolutely not shut up and I have to deal with it.

It was very early in the morning, no wonder. The sky was a bit gray, with some lone tints of dark blue still over it, and one or two stars visible as the sun was about to come up. At the docks the air was chilly, and Mario pulled up his coat to shield himself from the breeze, sinking on it slightly. It was big, way too big just for himself, and so – as they were earlier – he thought about calling his brother back to share it; he seemed too focused on what he was doing at moment, though, and Mario couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

Mario didn't want to interrupt him and bring an end to his line of thought; he could hear some words from afar and it sounded… messy. He laughed silently at that.

Blowing a bit of hot air against his hands, Mario was then left to think by himself as he watched his brother talk to Captain T. Ode, or at least try to. He seemed a bit worried, and there was a reason for that even though Mario couldn’t bring himself to think about it, whilst the captain themselves couldn’t be more relaxed. It was just another day travelling through the sea; they had no reason to be alarmed.

When they had arrived, Luigi made sure to talk with not only T. Ode, but the boat pilot as well to make sure everything would go smoothly. As he had mentioned earlier, he unfortunately wouldn't be able to go along that day as he had a meeting to attend at the castle, but Mario didn't mind it much; that he made clear during their ride to town, as Luigi seemed to feel guilty.

Indeed, they were both close if one stopped to look at it, but also their own people – he argued, and Luigi agreed. In this instance, Mario could only hope everything would turn out alright for his brother, even if he knew nothing about this meeting. He trusted him enough to let Luigi himself decide if he needed his help, and call for him then.

…Although, maybe he could ask later, once he had visited the Craftsman at their home.

And, of course, there was that too, visiting the Craftsman. Mario shifted his weight from leg to leg, feeling his palms become clammy, and held them against his chest. They were shaking a lot ever since he read the letter, and maybe that was the reason; It couldn't be _that_ cold so early, could it?

He didn’t like this feeling.

As he lifted his eyes from his palms, Mario went back to watching his brother trying – and failing – to get the Captain's attention. The toad in question wasn't exactly paying much mind to whatever he was saying, perhaps more worried about the state of the Marino before they all departed, but it was clear that they were listening, even if Luigi couldn’t tell. 

Mario had learned T. Ode's body language already; he knew when they were listening. It worked both as a curse and a blessing, he decided. Mario nodded in silence, looking to the side as an isolated part of the docks came into his mind, and a light smile tugged on the side of his lips.

It was strange to think of it sometimes, the amount of little moments they shared sitting at the docks late at night, drinking something close to coffee yet not quite there yet. It was calming after a busy day, and Mario felt like being back to old times he couldn’t recall, nostalgic to an extent. The Great Sea… was somewhat inviting.

The waves didn't judge – he remembered realizing once – and the sky looked beautiful even if glaring at them both for staying up so late. The water came and went, never the same as it took away the tension upon their shoulders. The feeling of loss was present on Mario’s chest still, and the same could be said about the captain it seemed, although each other's presence made this hole grow smaller; for one T. Ode was from another time, while Mario himself felt like the world was moving forward without him, but it mattered little so close to the water.

The peaceful nights they shared meant a lot, even if the captain didn't know any sign language at all. Mario didn't mind it, their presence was enough, and T. Ode was not of the talkative sorts either.

To create such a particular bond over something so little was an impressive feat. Should he be proud of it?

After looking around for a bit, finally tired of waiting for a pointless discussion to end, Mario watched as T. Ode stepped away from the Marino and started walking into the boat, Luigi ready to follow him as well. He was talking and talking, barely paying attention to where he was going, and that was bound to lead them all into a mess eventually.

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Mario then whistled loudly, making both T. Ode and his brother jump. There was a pause, and he smiled.

_"Won't you be late to your meeting?"_ He signed as he approached the boat, and he could see Luigi sighing on what he assumed to be a small bit anxiety; his feet was clearly bouncing up and down as he was standing still. Looking down at his boots, his brother seemed to be just as worried as he had been for the last few months and it was justifiable, Mario hadn't been in good shape mentally.

It wasn't as if Mario had left their cabin much to begin with, at least never since… that.

"I… well." Luigi turned to him, a worried look carrying through his otherwise unreadable expression. Mario liked to think it was the mustache hiding the obvious frown, but he could be biased. "I think I have another half an hour before I'm late."

"Should you not go meet those who await you, friend?" T. Ode leaned a bit over the boat's low railing, eyes still closed yet clearly focused on the two siblings, and Mario suddenly found himself uneasy under the stare. At that, the younger one jumped slightly, not expecting to hear their voice after trying to talk to them for so long, and Mario could only laugh under his breath.

Right as Luigi opened his mouth to answer the toad, Mario snapped his fingers to get his attention, and once he turned around Mario placed a hand on his shoulder, what he hoped to be a confident look carrying through his eyes, but it probably wasn’t.

No, he didn’t feel confident, quite the contrary really, but his brother didn't need to know that, now did he? Luigi had already a lot to do all day, and to worry about his brother at the same time could only result in a mess, as it often did. Could he, perhaps, reassure him enough to a point where he wouldn’t worry anymore? At least until the moment he explicitly asked for aid?

He doubted it, but he could at least try.

_"I'll be fine."_ He tried to say, although his hands trembled and the last sign came out jumbled. Luigi noticed it with a frown, and his worry deepened enough for Mario to sigh in slight defeat.

Already failing his mission a single sentence in, what a beautiful way to start his day.

Shaking his head, Luigi held one of Mario’s hands between his palms, which were incredibly warm even upon the freezing air of the morning as the first light was about to come. He sighed deeply, even more than before, eyes closed for the briefest of moments as he seemed to mull over the possibilities of the next few hours or possibly even days. It took some seconds, but he soon opened his eyes to look at his brother, only to ask a very simple yet meaningful question.

“Are you sure about this?”

Mario found himself nodding before he could even finish his sentence, and that only raised Luigi’s doubts more; in hopes of dimming this worry, he nodded again but slower and steadier, looking him in the eyes with more of his fabricated confidence. It didn’t seem to make the situation any better.

“You don’t need to go today.” Mario tilted his head to the side in slight confusion, and Luigi realized how uneasy he suddenly felt, as if his stomach was sinking deeper with each subsequent realization that _this was happening, god it was happening_. Looking down, he felt the chilly air finally getting to him, and he crossed his arms to try and shoo it away. “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow so I can go with you?”

At that Mario shook his head, and he took off his coat to throw it over his brother’s shoulders, walking past him before he could protest. _“I can do this, and the sooner I go the better.”_ He signed, but he couldn’t tell if Luigi was really paying attention to him.

His gaze was unfocused it seemed, and he left an audible _‘umph’_ as he pulled the coat closer to his body, ready to give it back if Mario came close again; the oldest grinned. Luigi kicked a stone over the deck as he looked down, and his mind went into thinking incessantly once again.

What was he supposed to do? This made no sense at all and his protective side was showing, which was something he never imagined one could feel towards their older sibling. What could the Origami Craftsman have for them so long after it was all over? Why give them the pen, of which they both played with in the car ride to the city? 

He wondered if it would even be healthy for his brother to go visit them alone, as he knew both the weird captain and pilot would not leave the boat as Mario explored. They had no reason to, so why would they? 

Shouldn’t such encounter, given the fact that both origami siblings existed because of the Craftsman, be detrimental to his brother mental health? He had made such good progress so far, opening up again as he had never before; what if it was all hindered during this visit? Or worse, thrown away as they went back to point zero?

Looking over the sea, overwhelmed as he felt, Luigi hoped the water could offer some kind of guidance in this situation, but the ocean held little interest over the earthling affairs. Evidently, it could only look over those living within it or over its shores, and the brother’s were far from both, for they were born and raised in lands far from the coasts.

It then seemed unfair to send his brother under the wings of something that could not offer him any protection, but they had both been through situations like this; fighting, getting up after being beaten down, winning against all odds. Could this be considered the same? Was Mario still capable of such strength? 

_“Are you alright?”_

Luigi felt a hand to his shoulder and his mind came back from this floating stance; suddenly, he could once again feel his feet against the hardened wood of the deck, whilst the salted air invaded his nose with no remorse. He shook his head from side to side, eyes meeting his brother’s, and a small smile came tugging the side of his lips. No, he shouldn’t worry, should he?

Mario gave him a look, and Luigi nodded as his smile grew, looking down; the answer hadn’t been as confident as he wished it was, but it worked well enough. He was still thinking, although not as intensely as before, and he found himself fiddling with his overalls. Clearly, his brother knew what he was doing; he defeated the Origami King entirely on his own for god’s sake! There should be no reason he couldn’t handle this. 

A simple travel across the sea, that was what it was. Yet Luigi felt uneasy.

“Promise me something?” He asked as he looked up again, and Mario nodded as he crossed his arms, perhaps growing impatient as time went on. Luigi laughed silently at that and shook his head. “Will you call me if you need help? Truly?”

_“Only if you promise to do the same.”_ It was a fair condition, Luigi thought after merely a second of pondering, and nodded right after.

There it was, then, a promise to ease his nerves, and it did considerably. There was simply no reason to worry no matter how hard he tried to look. The war was over, it was all over. 

There was no impending danger on any corners to surprise them, or rising enemies spreading their soldiers through the kingdom; his anxiety told lies, Luigi decided.

Keeping silent for a moment, they both let their minds wander at the sound of the water hitting the deck, cold and sharp. In a way it was calming - Mario considered it at least - although it was also threatening; they both knew what was waiting for him in an island roughly by the middle of a sea chart, and he would be visiting it that afternoon.

Would Mario’s life change again because of it as it had before?

After some seconds, a minute maybe, it was Mario who broke this idleness they had both settled into.

He gave a confident step forward and Luigi understood it immediately, opening his arms. They both shared an embrace, a strong one. It clearly took them some seconds to separate, but the captain and pilot didn’t mind waiting it seemed; they understood it, as one would hope.

_"I'll be fine."_ He repeated himself and his hands were now less shaky than before; all signs came out clear as day. It could be, perhaps, a surge of sudden confidence taking over Mario's body; or it couldn't, too. Only time could tell. _"Tell me about your meeting once I come back?"_

Luigi laughed briefly, shaking his head. "Curious, are you? I will." He looked up at the sky as he nodded, and his eyes were met by a beautiful blanket of mixed blue and orange tones, a small tint of purple over the horizon, where Mario would be heading towards. 

There was a star with strong purple tints over the sun rays, a beautiful and very strong one, and Luigi suddenly felt a sense of dread welling up his gut, but he ignored it.

It went away as the star faded within the light of day.

"Not that it will be interesting enough to be worth mentioning." 

Luigi laughed and took as step back as he felt a weak, playful punch on his shoulder. It didn't hurt, although he could feel his brother stepping closer to make sure it didn't, and for a moment he was happy to see him like this; just as he was before everything went down. 

Mario placed a hand on his shoulder, likely seeking his attention to say something, and Luigi smiled weakly, something almost like a mischievous grin. He rested his hand over his brother's, patting it lightly before placing it on top of his red cap, ruffling the hair through it as he had done again and again over the years. 

Always so mindful of his appearance and presentation, maybe he could ask Mario to loosen up a bit later, he always seemed so serious. Luigi guessed the silent nature of his helped on the image, he could see why. Maybe treating him like he always had would be better, now wouldn’t it?

Perhaps annoyed yet carrying a grin on his lips, Mario took a step back and shook his head as he got away from his brother’s vicious claws, and a silent laugh erupted from his chest. He needed to do this more, they both decided on the same note; laugh. Some said it was the best medicine, but even if it wasn’t, it made things easier. And ‘easier’ was everything they wanted right now.

"Call me, got it?" Luigi placed his hands on his hips, calling for his brother’s attention. Mario nodded as he crossed his arms, and the uncertainty seemed gone on the outside, but what could he be thinking right now? 

They shared a smile and even if Luigi wouldn’t be sure for a while, he could only hope everything to go as planned. He waved as he took some steps back, heading to the car they both shared – even if Mario preferred not to drive – and turned around to wave a last goodbye for the next few days. Mario smiled under his moustache, visible from afar, and waved back. 

He shook hands with the Pilot and the Captain as he boarded, and seemed to point the location on the sea chart before they started getting prepared to leave. Luigi watched from the car as he helped load some supplies into the boat, then lean against the handrail as he waited for their departure.

The boat was gone less than five minutes later, and Luigi stayed back as he watched it disappear into the horizon, where the sky was still colored purple and stars were slowly being taken over by the rays of the sun. He watched and let out a whistle once he could no longer see it, rubbing his hands together as he let out a deep sigh. 

Luigi lifted up his head and his eyes were met by a clock on top of a lamp-post, where he took his time to read the hour. 

“Wha-!?” 

He was late.


	3. Chapter 3

First light was still coming up and the sun rose shyly over the horizon, painting the sky in a mix of yellow, orange and purple tones, just like their preferred colors. 

As always, he was the first one to get up, and knowing it would take at least another hour for Olivia to wake as well, he sat by himself at the island's edge near its entrance; as he waited, just like he always did, the waves made him company.

It had been around two weeks, he guessed at first, although Olivia argued it was a month.

In her words, there should be no way for her to learn how to fold a dragon in such a short time, and he disagreed, of course. She had learned to fold herself much quicker, that she made clear, and she pouted as she had no grounds to stand on against him; just like many times before.

She was learning slowly, but admittedly much quicker than she credited herself for. He wondered if she would ever grow to have the same skill in the art of origami as he had already been born with, and the idea made him feel fuzzy in the chest, some kind of happiness he couldn’t place. She was skilled and determined, could she ever surpass him? He hoped not in all honesty, but he wouldn’t discourage her curiosity in the matter.

After she backed down, retreating to the kitchen as the Craftsman was already making dinner to most likely pester them with teaching her something new, he was left on his own outside. He didn’t mind it, but he had to admit it left a bitter taste in his mouth. She came back around an hour after just as he was about to take a nap, a cupcake in hand.

He backed down on their earlier argument almost immediately after.

_It had been a month_ since they had seen the light of day again, blessed by life a second time after everything that had happened as opposed to what should have been their definitive end. Saying it like this in the morning, alone by the sea with one or two stiff joints as he had just woken up, it sounded grim, and of course it did. It was the truth though and he wouldn’t deny it; they were both supposed to be gone, but here he was looking at the sun rising slowly over the horizon.

A miracle, as many would call, but he begged to differ. Hoping the idea would go away, he was disappointed to realize the thought had stuck to the back of his mind like a leech.

As the days went on and they fell into some sort of routine, there was a heavy feeling over the air that refused to leave, but perhaps it was something only there for him. He felt it over his shoulders and neck, weighing down constantly, reaching unbearable levels at certain points. There was some kind of fear in his gut, and he kept his mouth shut.

_You killed people_ , it said accusingly and he struggled with the thought, covering his ears to deny it entry, but it settled comfortably on his brain as if it belonged there.

He… couldn't find it within himself to deny it, this truth.

And of course, it shouldn't have been very difficult, but it was. Yes, he did threaten to fold the paper population into origami, but that never meant death; if anything it meant new forms and minds, but never one’s death, so it didn't weight too heavy over his body initially. It _shouldn't_ be hard to deny it, but it sure felt like it, as if a lump would form in his throat if he tried to say it.

_'You killed him; he's gone because of you.'_ He heard Olivia's sobbing voice in the back of his mind and those little fragments of memory pieced his heart all the way through with the fury of a thousand needles. He took a deep breath, eyes closing as the pain dimmed yet refused to go away. It played on his head again, just as it had before he had gone to sleep last night, and he was forced to watch it.

_"He's gone- Bobby is… he is-" She was a sobbing mess, curling over herself at the bed as if she wanted to disappear, and maybe she did. As things got worse, the toad had to hold her hands between their palms so her nails wouldn't dig deep enough into her arms to draw blood; and then waited, helping as they could._

_He was far by the door as instructed until she had calmed down enough to look at him without being reduced to intense sobbing. It took a long time, and it eventually started weighing heavier and heavier on his shoulders. The more he waited and watched, the more it hurt._

_And it hurt a lot._

_"I- I…" Hate you, that’s what you want to say; he remembered thinking, but he knew she wouldn’t, perhaps having a lump of her own in the middle of her throat._

And just as it had before, the memory made his heart sink so deep he suspected it to be at the bottom of the sea.

He could hear it through her sobs, admittedly, the curses she never said against him directly yet seemed clear as day to him; waiting, hanging from the tip of her tongue like venom. She would never say them, she never did, even as all seemed to be lost in the middle of his madness, but she didn't need to.

He had given her life; he knew who she was to the bone, and his deceiving eyes saw the truth. They had to.

He sighed in silence to himself as his hand came up to brush away some rogue hair strands from his eye, and he could feel his shoulders slumping. The ocean looked gorgeous at the morning light, but its beauty did little to hide its disappointment. He could feel the eyes of the fish, of the sailors passing by, although he doubted they recognized him.

_'They don't need to.'_ He thought as he crossed his arms and leaned against a rock, hands trembling slightly as a shiver ran up his spine. _'They really… don't.'_

He was thankful they didn’t, in a way. What would have he become had he won? A king, for sure, but he had read a lot ever since it happened and he was sure whatever he was crafting so meticulously would never grow to be a good kingdom. _What would I have been? King or tyrant, did it matter to me at the time?_

His mind felt clouded in a mixture of guilt and disgust the more he thought about it, and he felt it hard to breathe out of a sudden. No, he decided, this was no place to pass out, although there weren't many others around such a tiny island. He needed to distract himself before something bad came up and he stood up as he went to search.

A bird passed by, had just built its nest by one a tree near the shore, and in its beak he noticed something close to a scale. It was red, shining within the strong morning sunlight, and the blurry state of his mind seemed to clear slightly.

It would take some time for them to wake up now, and so there was no point in making breakfast already and hope it would be warm by the time the three would sit down to eat. He could make something for himself, of course, but that didn't sound as fun as cooking to his sister; there was, after all, some kind of amusement in watching her mood shift from _sleeping while standing'_ to _wide awake and ready to make a mess'._

So that left him with very little to do, and the best option among all others came right away, having just remembered about it because of that bird. He could practice his folding skills, couldn't he? Maybe a fish, any fish using red paper.

…Why was he afraid of trying all of a sudden?

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. He had folded no paper ever since that night he lost. Having his mind cleared of such disgusting rage induced blindness, his constant need to be creating more and more had vanished and he had now been seemingly left in a void one could call an "artistic block". In a way, he didn’t want to leave it.

He looked up at the house's second-floor window, the one that went up to their shared bedroom. Perhaps searching for a sign that Olivia was to wake up soon, he stared for some time, but saw nothing of the sort. A deep sigh left his lips, and he once again brushed some hair out of his face as he looked down.

He decided to make breakfast then. 

* * *

Olivia woke up feeling heavy blankets embracing her, and for some seconds she didn't want to get up. It was cozy, very much so; the blankets were doing a wonderful job at shielding her from the chilly morning air, and although she couldn’t see much behind this wall of fabric, she knew it was still early. 

With a deep sigh, she shifted a bit on her bed to face the ceiling and she realized she was wrapped up like a burrito. She pushed away some fabric and rubbed her eyes a bit, deciding between feeling frustrated or thankful, landing in a mixture of the two. She didn't remember wrapping herself like this last night, but it was still welcome.

She pouted. Must have been Olly's doing, which meant that he was already awake. 

As she finally gathered the warmth she needed to survive some minutes out of bed, she sat up and a shiver ran up her back. She paused, feeling uneasy over something and she looked down at her hands, closing them tight once, twice, three times; some more until she could feel all of her fingers. 

Yesterday she felt like the world was ending, but today was another story, it seemed; she could breathe and think straight, she could feel her body and her hands weren't shaking anymore. It was nice. Yesterday had not been easy, but she had survived it.

Regardless of that heavy feeling over her chest that was still there, pressing down relentlessly in a rough push, she had survived it. A new day had come and she would do her best to enjoy it, even if sleeping later that night meant more nightmares. 

As she went to get up, she came to notice how heavy the pile of blankets had been on top of her legs, and she pondered for a moment as for the reason. She pulled her covers up to see what could be causing the additional weight, and as she went to check, she found another two that didn't belong to her; one purple and one orange.

She sighed as a small smile reached her lips, and she got up to her feet to fold them all up. She must have made some noise after she went to sleep last night, because Olly certainly didn't have the lightest of sleeps, and that made her feel somewhat guilty. In all honesty, it was his fault she had been feeling so… overwhelmed lately - after everything that had happened -, but she couldn't bring herself to say it or hold it against him. 

No matter how much everything led her to believe she should hate him, she couldn’t commit to the idea. Not fully, anyway.

She shook her head as she folded her own blankets, straightening her sheets before placing them on top of her pillow. She sat by her bed for a moment, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time in an unexpected trance, until the familiar smell of ocean water reached her senses. 

Everything had happened so fast back then - and she had to laugh at that, because it felt as if it was so long ago - and now it was over, as if nothing had happened in the first place.

If there were once origami fish attacking people's boats as they sailed, it didn't show; and if there were ever folded soldiers on each island of the Great Sea harassing unsuspecting residents, then they disappeared without a trace.

As they should, she remembered. Her wish had been rightfully fulfilled. 

She knew she shouldn't feel so… empty about this, she knew, but she did anyway. It made her feel as if there was a bottomless hole in her chest somehow, and maybe there was one with how terrible she had been feeling ever since, but she would rather never know. 

Time had passed by so fast, did people even remember it at all? She wished she could go and see it, but none of them had left the island ever since, just the Craftsman whenever their supplies were low. She'd had the urge to ask, of course, but… why would she? She had all she needed here anyway, even if she wanted to see her friends again. Why would she need to leave?

…She somehow found that a difficult question to think about. 

As of now, she thought with a shiver, all she had left of it were seemingly her own memories and traumas to deal with, and in a way she constantly found herself missing the thrilling action of it all. 

Running through the desert, climbing up towers and fighting enemies, meeting new people and offering them the help they needed, it had all taken up such a big part of her life; it was somewhat emptying to have mostly nightmares come out of it now, as if the good memories had never mattered.

If only she had the strength to help the happiest ones outshine the worst of the worst. 

Shaking her head, perhaps looking for something else to think about, she focused back on her task and took care of Olly's purple blanket last. After having folded all others and placed them on their respective beds, she took a step back to simply observe the space, and a shiver ran up her back, eventually. 

His side of the room looked almost bare compared to hers, she noticed in a slight grimace. It had been like this for a while now; there were little to no decorations over the walls, and besides his colored blankets and sheets, there weren't many other colors. He didn’t mind it; he told her again and again, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that he did. Reserved or not, even that seemed too extreme.

Of course she had tried talking to him about it to no avail, he seemed so afraid to come close to her initially it was painful to see. She respected his privacy… sometimes.

_'He must be trying to punish himself,’_ she thought as she picked up an origami butterfly from her side and placed it on his pillow. _'Oh Olly…’_

She frowned quite deeply at that, looking down at her feet. She understood it, but that wouldn’t do at all. He should know he deserved more than this. He had taken care of her so carefully until now, why couldn’t he do the same to himself?

The night before had been an absolute nightmare, almost literally, and he was there for her; or he tried to, at least. That was good enough. She remembered little of it, her mind becoming clouded as she tried to recall anything further from his warm embrace, or the comforting words. His presence was good enough. 

She sighed deeply, hands coming up to rub against her arms in an attempt at shooing away another shiver that was to come. Under her palms, she could feel the scratches she had done during the night.

“Olivia!” She jumped slightly at the sudden voice calling for her, turning to look at the door as she recognized Olly's voice. It was him downstairs, always loud enough to call for her, but still careful not to wake the Craftsman on their room. “Breakfast is ready, I can hear you up there. Come down before it gets cold.” 

He was a great cook indeed, and Olivia wondered where he'd gotten the skills from, but then she remembered he had spent some time with the Craftsman before she was born. Curious it was, as their styles couldn’t be further apart. 

She nodded, more to herself than anything, because in the end there was no way he could see her, and she went to change into some fresh clothes before going down. He always woke up first, _somehow_ , and made breakfast before they were even awake; as complex as some of his favorite dishes were to make, she didn't question it. He seemed like the early bird type, anyway.

Once done with changing, she closed the door to their room as quietly as possible as she went into the hallway, sparing a glance to the other door just by its opposite end. She was relieved to hear no movement coming from there, which meant they had around another hour before the Craftsman woke up; if they kept quiet, that is, their sleep was very light.

Going down the stairs, a sweet smell invaded Olivia's senses as it became stronger with each step she took down, and by the end of it she had stopped as she seemed to take a second to appreciate it. She couldn’t name what the fruit was exactly, she knew very little of those so far, although she was doing her best to learn each name, but she could recognize it. Strawberry, maybe? Or grapes; something else entirely, perhaps? A quiet hum brought her back to reality and she looked up.

Olly’s back was turned to her, although she could see he was still preparing something. His sleeves were pulled up even though the shirt he was using wasn’t exactly long to begin with, and she could see some light scars and markings over his forearms, visible in the strong daylight. 

He was barefooted still, she noticed as well, and the small dirt stains on his pants told her he had been awake way longer than she had expected. A harmless habit for as long as he lost no sleep over it, she thought, to sit by the shore and watch the waves as the sun rose high on the horizon. 

At that, Olivia smiled, albeit a bit sadly. She wished she could be there for him at those moments.

“Did you just wake up?” She approached the table, the powerful smell of fruit surrounding her, and she came closer to the sink right as he was pouring a reddened and purple mix into a bowl. “Oh, what’s that?”

He gave her a warning look as she went to touch the mix in hopes of having a taste and hit her hand weakly once she came too close to succeeding. She laughed a little, faking a betrayed look, and she huffed as she crossed her arms and took a step back. 

They stared at each other for a moment, as they seemed to do so often nowadays, and although Olly wasn’t smiling, she caught an amused glint in his eyes as he turned away with the heavy bowl in hands.

“You will find out in two hours, until then keep your hands to yourself.” He took a step back as he went to put the bowl on the fridge, careful not to spill any of it anywhere as not to add to the mess he had already made, and Olivia looked down. “The milk is still warm and I made some fish strips; there’s bread too if you want.”

"Two hours is a very long time…" She mumbled under her breath and Olly smiled almost unnoticeably, but it was enough to brighten up the room considerably. At that, she couldn’t help but smile herself.

"You'll survive." He looked down as his hands went to his back to untie the knot holding the apron in place, doing so almost effortlessly. His shirt was clean unlike many times before, but the apron in question was a mess; it would need to be cleaned up later, Olivia supposed.

As he struggled a bit to get it over his head, she shook her head and stepped forward to help him. Olly was a great cook, no doubt, but cleanliness while doing so wasn’t exactly his top priority, which often resulted in a mess. 

“You are the one who is going to clean this all up, just so you know.” She gave him a napkin to clean his hands with and as he did so, she sat at the table while looking out the window. He sighed, something mixed up with a laugh, nodding as he sat down just by the opposite side of her, and he followed her gaze as they both looked outside. 

The wind was picking up, Olly realized as the waves started becoming taller and taller. It meant that it was going to rain heavily in some hours, sooner even, and whoever was traveling by boat outside during such a storm would not come out unscathed. Soaked at best, he would rather not think of the worst.

He shook his head, feeling slightly anxious. This would be the third storm they had ever seen out here, and it turns out that waves can become very scary when they can tower over the house; not that they had seen one as such, but it _was_ possible. 

“I have a feeling something will happen today.” He turned his head to Olivia as she spoke, and she kept looking outside over the horizon, as if searching for something. 

Her eyes seemed strangely glassy for some reason, unfocused, and for a moment he became worried she wasn’t feeling well, but she soon broke out of such a trance, looking at him with her head tilted to the side.

"What do you think it is?" He asked as looked down, and she shrugged, unable to come up with a response. They both kept silent as Olly gave her time to think on it. She looked outside again for some seconds, before turning away from the window to focus on whatever food was still warm at the table. He picked up one of the fish strips to nibble on.

"I can't tell what it is, it's confusing." Her voice came as something barely over a whisper, and she took a sip of her cup she had just poured milk into. She looked up at him and her grip on the cup tightened a considerably. "Should we worry?"

He took a moment to answer, pondering over the question as he finally took a full bite out of his snack. He shook his head after some seconds.

“Just over a feeling? I don’t think so.” He picked up his cup already filled up from before and stood up to go sit by the window they were looking through. “Although there’s a storm coming up, so maybe it’s related to that.”

The wind was already strong compared to what it had been when he woke up, and the air smelled heavily like rain. He looked back at her as he leaned against the wall, sitting on the small space they had on the windowsill. 

She nodded, deep in thought as she looked back into her cup, the food untouched by her until then. She took another sip, letting the warm drink shoo away the cold air all around her, and she looked around as she was left to think through this moment of silence between them.

There was a strange feeling over her chest, one she couldn’t shake that was different from the heavy dread she felt most nights. Different it was, for it was considerably lighter and easier to deal with. Something mixed up with excitement, and it was also familiar, very much so. She could only hope it was something better than before, something that wouldn’t bring her further nightmares, of course.

She shook her head, sighing deeply. Olly glanced at her, brows raised in a silent question whether or not she was alright, but she didn't answer it. She got up to her feet, leaving the cup at the table, before heading to his side to watch the ocean in more detail.

She looked out at the sea as that same feeling on her chest refused to leave, making her uncomfortable. It could be about that - the storm that was to come -, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't. Maybe it was just her subconsciousness worrying about the oncoming downpour, but it could also be something unrelated and that scared her.

“Maybe it is.” She muttered, unable to shake some kind of uneasiness off her back. Olly looked at her, perhaps sensing her discomfort, and he sighed just as deeply as she had seconds before. His hand was warm against her shoulder, but it was gone as soon as it came; he offered it to her so easily now, it almost didn't seem like had refused to simply come close to her few days ago.

She took it, of course, and they kept their distance at each side of the wide window even though they held hands tight. The wind was getting stronger by the minute, and soon enough it would start raining too; so incredibly early in the morning as well, she had hoped to have more time to enjoy the outside, but that wouldn’t be the case today.

The heavy feeling over her chest didn't leave, and her grip tightened a bit against Olly's palm, which made him answer in a similar fashion without even looking at her. She sighed silently, worried about something.

And as she closed her eyes, she could finally hear the small droplets of water against the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha yeah remember when I finished a chapter in a week? Yeah...
> 
> Like I'm so sorry guys, really, I swear it wasn't on purpose lol and I also finally got to write the siblings, i'm so happy.
> 
> Also first time using Rich text to edit this? Please forgive any formatting mistakes.


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